


Crux

by pocketchocobo (laveIIans)



Series: Alia Loves Haurchefant [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Confessions, F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Love Confessions, Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Mostly Fluff, Pre-Relationship, Tumblr: FFXIVwrite, Tumblr: FFXIVwrite2020, late to the fandom late to the challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:40:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28848456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laveIIans/pseuds/pocketchocobo
Summary: Alia frets endlessly over whether a certain Elezen returns her feelings, and takes matters into her own hands by flying over there to tell him herself.
Relationships: Haurchefant Greystone/Warrior of Light
Series: Alia Loves Haurchefant [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2115411
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	Crux

From the moment she first laid eyes on him, Alia had felt the first stirrings of a crush develop. Coerthas was… well, a little frosty, in her opinion - and that wasn’t just the snow. The people there were not generally warm and welcoming to adventurers, she had quickly learnt, and she did not have the gil to her name nor the clothes and bearing to pass herself off as some foreign noble to gain favour with the Elezen houses. Had she not been there for work, Alia would have quite happily headed back to the comforts of Limsa Lominsa, leaving malms away the snooty, cold excuse for a ‘welcome’ that she had received.

At least, she  _ would  _ have done, had it not been for the attention of one man. His warmth had stood out like a beacon to Alia amidst the distance of the other Elezen, and it had only increased after she had successfully aided Lord Francel against the machinations of the Inquisitor, who had seemed more keen on fulfilling the punishments of his job than their grounding in any basis. 

After she had left Coerthas, safe on the  _ Enterprise  _ and her business concluded there, Alia had offered to write to Haurchefant when she was free and able, not expecting any agreement on his part; to her surprise - and hastily hidden joy - Haurchefant had smiled, and agreed to return the favour when he, too, had the time. 

And now, a few months down the line, Alia found herself eagerly awaiting the delivery moogle, acting like a lovesick maid for all of her one-and-twenty years. His letters seemed no less friendly and polite than the Elezen had been in person, but the Miqo’te now found herself in the position so many would-be lovers had agonisingly ensnared themselves in. It would not surprise her to hear he already had a lover somewhere, maybe even in Ishgard; perhaps the fact she had never been counted against her. 

And he was handsome enough, surely, for all the cream of Ishgardian nobility to offer their daughters’ hands to him; of that Alia had no doubt.  _ Lord  _ Greystone, they had called him: not a high position on its own, but all the Ishgardians she had ever crossed seemed to hold their appearance in high esteem, pampering and primping after themselves as though they had all the time in the world to do little else - and given their birth, that was likely the case.

The more she thought about it, the more Alia realised her case was doomed. Her parents had left their respective clans, Keeper and Seeker both, to make a new life for themselves in Limsa Lominsa, attracted, no doubt, by the roguish, colourful atmosphere. There they had met, fallen in love, married, and their union had been as happy as it was fertile. Being the middle child of eight, too young to be doted over and not yet wed herself, it had only been a natural turn of events that led Alia to the adventurer’s life, seeking to make a name for herself and establish herself outside her crowd of siblings. 

And being an adventurer, of no noble birth herself, any union she might seek from this  _ Lord  _ Greystone would be on the wrong side of the sheets. No ‘Lady Greystone’ would be forthcoming - for  _ her _ , at least.

But she had to tell him. He  _ had  _ to know. It was burning away at her like a brand, eating at her insides the more Alia gave it thought - which was far too often, admittedly, when she wasn’t occupied with Scion duties - and the fear he might, and probably would, turn her away was more than she could bear.

Still, she could tell him, face to face. That way, he would have to look her in the eye when he broke her heart.

Her head filled with all the agonies of melodrama her heart had concocted for her personal torment, Alia saddled her unicorn and made haste for Camp Dragonhead.

“Onward, Alistair,” she whispered, urging her steed into the air. The long ride helped soothe her heart somewhat, distracting her with all the sights she found from her aerial view. Flying had always been something she enjoyed, ever since she had realised Alistair was capable of it, and watching the sun rise and set from midair never ceased to take her breath away. 

As Camp Dragonhead drew closer, Alia steeled herself, focusing on breathing exercises as Alistair prepared to descend. She would  _ not  _ humiliate herself, she would  _ not  _ humiliate herself,  _ she would not humiliate herself  _ -

And there he was, still sitting in the same seat. She wondered if he ever left his position, or if he ate and slept there, too; then she felt a stir of guilt. Haurchefant was a hard-working man, and it would not do for her thoughts to be mocking him while she tried to string together a sentence that told him her feelings…  _ and  _ made sense.

“Greetings, Miss Rhen.” Haurchefant had been writing something on a scrap of parchment; on seeing her arrive, red-faced and slightly out of breath from running around the courtyard, he had set the parchment and quill aside. “Is aught amiss? I had thought the  _ Enterprise  _ in working order, but if there is anything you need by way of repairs, I -”

“No, no.” Alia shook her head hurriedly. “It’s not about the airship, that’s fine, it’s all fine, it, uh…” She sighed, eyes darting from the parchment and back to him. “Is this a bad time? If you don’t have a free moment, I can wait.”

He cleared his throat. “Actually, you just reminded me of the fact I was due a break… two hours ago, in fact.” Haurchefant chuckled, shaking his head. “Halone preserve me! But the reports don’t write themselves, and I suppose I got a little caught up.”

“Well, if you’re free… how would you like to get that drink you offered the last time? It would be lovely to catch up in person again.”

“And wouldn’t it just? Right, that’s my mind made up, then.” Haurchefant rose from his chair, nodding to the two guards near him. “If anybody asks, Miss Rhen has my undivided attention for the next… oh, you know what? I’m done with everything for today, so you can say I’m having dinner a little early.” He winked at them before turning back to the Miqo’te. “Shall we, Miss Rhen?”

“O-of course.”

Haurchefant led the way to the dining hall, which was blissfully empty…. though that was no surprise, given that dinner was not for a couple of hours at least. As they sat down, he gave her an apologetic smile. “I would have hosted you in my quarters, but I’m afraid they’re due a bit of spring cleaning. Maybe summer and autumn too. It’s all this damned paperwork.”

The thought of being in Haurchefant’s private quarters made Alia’s heart skip a beat, but she schooled her face into what she hoped would pass for neutrality. “Ah, Lord Greystone, I would not want you to put yourself to such trouble on my account, truly.”

“Haurchefant.”

“I… what?”

“Call me Haurchefant.” The Elezen flashed a smile at her. “You’re the hero of Coerthas, are you not? Saving Lord Francel, ridding us of a serpent in Inquisitor’s gear… you have done us all a great service, Miss Rhen, and the very least I can do is offer you my name.”

“Then let me offer you mine,” she smiled, relieved. “Call me Alia,  _ please _ .” All the standing on ceremony left her ill at ease, and since being heralded as the Warrior of Light, Hydaelyn’s own chosen hero, she had all but forgotten her name, so few had deigned to use it of late.

“Very well, Mi - Alia.” He laughed. “Force of habit, I’m afraid, but it is a lovely name.”

A servant took note of their order - Ishgardian brandy and stew for Haurchefant, braised croc and apple wine for Alia - and hurried to the kitchens to prepare it. 

Catching up with Haurchefant was a pleasure, and Alia found herself relaxing and simply enjoying talking to him. The more she warmed up, the more she realised why she had grown to love him, even from afar; he was an attentive listener, so  _ easy  _ to talk to that she didn’t even worry about babbling away. The blue eyes didn’t hurt either, nor the Ishgardian accent. 

She was right on the verge of confessing her feelings when their dinner arrived. 

“Thank you,” Haurchefant smiled at the servants, nodding. “That will be all for us, I think - unless you would like anything else?” he added, turning back towards Alia.

“I… I’m not sure. I think I’ll see how much room I have left.”

The servants retreated with a bow, tactfully leaving the pair to eat in peace. 

“What brings you back to Coerthas, then? If it’s not the Scions, nor your airship, then pray tell.” Haurchefant took a sip of brandy, smiling in pleasure. “Ah, excellent. Oh, but do carry on. I fear I interrupted you there.”

“Well…” Alia gulped, then breathed. “Truth be told, it’s a selfish reason.” When he quirked an eyebrow at her, she continued: “There’s a man. A good, kind, honourable man, who I am lucky to call a friend. I… I enjoy his company a great deal, but I also…” She paused.

“Also what, hmm?” He swallowed his bite of stew, then looked amused. “Ah, don’t tell me! You have feelings for this man?”

Alia nodded. “I do. And I know he won’t return them. He  _ can’t _ . We come from different worlds.”

“Different how?”

When he didn’t continue, she sighed. “Well, for one thing, he’s not a Miqo’te. I know that’s not such a big deal, but… well, people gossip. And then he’s a noble, and I’m not, and I know we won’t be able to be together, not really, but I just really wanted to tell him I -” 

Alia broke off, blinking back tears. She disguised her shaky breaths by taking a hearty sip of wine. “I just wanted to tell him in person, because that way he’d have to look me in the eye when he turned me away. At least I’d get to see him squirm a little, so it would sting less. That’s selfish, isn’t it?”

“A little,” he admitted, “but also noble, I would say. Love is not something you should feel you have to hide. If this man is as kind as you say, then even if you come from different worlds, I’m sure he would only be honourable to you, whatever happened.”

“He  _ is  _ honourable. I know he is. And I...” Alia looked down in her lap. “Twelve, I can’t keep dancing around like this.” She forced herself to meet his eye. “Haurchefant, I… I like you.”

“Well, that makes this all a lot easier, then.” Alia was too struck by his words to notice the way he beamed at her, or the fact his face was growing closer to hers, ilm by ilm, until she suddenly felt his lips upon hers. 

She closed her eyes, deepening the kiss, allowing herself to tentatively wrap her arms around him, just savouring the fantasy for a moment longer. 

As they drew apart for breath, Haurchefant cupped her cheek tenderly. She noticed his were slightly pink, too; hers were likely redder than rubies. 

“I thought… But you…”

“I am a lord, yes… but I am also illegitimate.” He sighed, a flash of bitterness crossing his features. “My father is Count Edmont de Fortemps. We are… distant, you could say, likely because my very face reminds him of his greatest shame. My stepmother never cared for me either.”

“I… I am so sorry, Haurchefant.” Alia felt a wave of guilt surge in her belly.

“No, no, don’t be. I used to feel shame over it, but there’s no use crying over spilt milk, as they say. I cannot change the fact I am a bastard, so my only option is to live with it.” He gave her a half-smile. “We are not from such distant worlds after all, you and I.”

Alia was lost for words, so she compensated by eating the rest of her food, smiling at him every so often… but still less sure of where they stood than before.

It was the Elezen who broke the silence. “Did you truly think I would turn you away, Alia?” The sad note in his voice forced her eyes to meet his. 

“Yes,” she answered. “I assumed you would not wish to…  _ associate  _ with a commoner. At best, you would have a string of lovers from here to Costa del Sol. At worst, all that and some fancy maiden’s betrothal.”

Haurchefant snorted. “ _ Betrothal _ ? The great houses would rather choke than send their ladies off to an illegitimate son. And as for lovers, I am woefully un-wooed.” 

“Care to change that, then?” Whatever demon had possessed her to speak those words also gave him a wink, but Alia found she didn’t care. 

“Oh,  _ gladly _ . You’re the first person to look at me and not see a stain on the House Fortemps line.”

“Well, I didn’t even  _ know  _ you were a bastard until now,” Alia chuckled, “but no, this changes nothing. Only that -”

“Only that it makes such a thing possible without the censure of all Ishgard’s nobility, is that what you mean?”

“...Yes.” 

“I’m sure they’ll find a way somehow.”

The demon prodded her on. “Haurchefant?”

“Yes, Alia?” Twelve, she would never tire of hearing her name on his lips.

“Shut up and kiss me.”

  
  



End file.
